


Ignis: All Business?

by Not_a_Palindrome



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Dealing with teenage feelings, F/M, First Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ignis isn't perfect, Implied promptis, Language, Sneaking Around, Teenage Ignis, conflicted feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 18:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10668132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_a_Palindrome/pseuds/Not_a_Palindrome
Summary: Since the day Ignis was chosen to be Noctis’ advisor, his life has largely been decided for him. Where he lives, what he chooses to study, the hobbies he pursues, all have been in service of Noct’s best interests.However, not everything he does is for Noctis. The one thing he does for himself is to indulge in a series of meaningless flings. That is, until what he thinks will be just another one-night stand turns into something more. As a result, Ignis finally has to think about what direction he really wants his life to take and whether that life will be dictated by his duty to the prince.A mostly canon-compliant story told through slices of life over the course of four seasons.





	1. Autumn

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Lessons in Etiquette](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9315287) by [KnockKnockBadminton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnockKnockBadminton/pseuds/KnockKnockBadminton). 



“Quickly! We musn’t linger if we wish to remain undetected,” Ignis whispered. He grabbed Lyra’s hand and pulled her along as they ran silently across the lawn to the safety of darkness along the wall of the National Library.

“How many times have you done this?” she asked, crouching with him behind a decorative sculpture attempting to huddle close to his warmth. The air was crisp, the first night of fall that felt truly cold.

“Do I detect jealousy? You needn’t worry,” he replied.

“Oh, please. I barely know you.”

“Come, the coast is clear.” He stood and ran along the wall, Lyra at his heels, until they came to an unassuming door, labeled “Staff Entrance Only.” Ignis pulled a ring of keys from his pocket, and quietly unlocked it. Once inside and the door safely shut again, Lyra breathed a heavy sigh.

“Everything alright?” Ignis asked, taking her hand. He could see the tension leave her body as she relaxes, accepting that they had avoided detection.

“I’m just relieved,” she replied. “The reality of sneaking into the library was a lot more nerve-wracking than I thought it would be. How do you even have keys to this place? I know you don’t work here.”

Ignis smiled. “I have my ways,” he said, smugly. Hand-in-hand, they walked down the dim, office-lined hallway, Lyra’s shoes echoing loudly.

“Suuuuure you do. Does it have something to do with a certain Priscus Scientia?” she said, releasing his hand to slip her shoes off.

“I see you are aware of my uncle,” Ignis replied, pushing up his glasses.   

“I wouldn’t think being a relative of the director would be enough to finagle keys to this place.” They entered the main hall of the library, which rose three stories, framed on all sides by balconies. Stark shadows cast the ornate architecture in high relief and she stopped to run a hand over one of the elaborate marble pillars that extended up to the domed roof. Each of the six sides was carved with images of the Hexatheon. In the dark, the library had an eerie beauty, quite different from the regal grandeur of the daytime.

“Generally, no. However, I have managed to prevail upon my uncle that access to the library would be beneficial for me to be able to study outside of business hours. My duties with the prince can often necessitate an irregular schedule.”

“Ignis! You convinced your uncle to give you keys to the library to sneak girls in!”

“Hardly. No, it is as I stated, as bland though my reason may be. Though being able to sneak in with a date from time to time is an added benefit…” he relied, with a sidelong glance.

Lyra shoved his shoulder gently. “And here I thought I was special. So, are you going to show me that rare book room or not?”

“I am starting to suspect you are just using me for my connections.”

“Maybe just a bit. But who knows, maybe it’ll be worth your while,” she said with a wink.

In the rare book room, Ignis found Lyra’s combination of glee and reverence at the collection to be endearing. In truth, it was something that Ignis had taken for granted. Living at the citadel for 10 years had inured him the incredible privilege he enjoyed, constantly surrounded by priceless artifacts that dated back centuries or even millennia. The books in this room contained the history of Eos, unmatched by any library in the world. As such, access to the carefully climate-controlled room was strictly limited. Only a very few select scholars had ever been fortunate enough to touch the very oldest books, including the first known copy of the _Cosmogony_ , that were locked under UV-protective glass as an extra precaution. Not even Ignis had ever laid a hand on those.

“I would live in here if I could,” she said wistfully. “Like Claudia in _From the_ _Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler._ ”

“I’m not familiar with that story.”

“It’s about a girl and her brother who run away to live in a museum. They sleep in antique beds, bathe in a fountain, and hide from the guards in the restroom. ” She was thoughtful for a moment. “I guess that must be what it’s like to live at the Citadel. Minus the bathing in a fountain part, I assume.”

“There are several fountains at the Citadel if you would like to give it a try.” Ignis quite enjoyed the mental image.

“I’m sure you would love that, but I’d like to hold off on getting arrested for indecency.”

After leaving the rare book room, they wandered around the library for some time, occasionally ducking behind pillars or down aisles of bookcases to hide from guards. Ignis knew from past experience he could persuade any guards that did spot them to look the other way, but he didn’t let Lyra know that. He enjoyed adding to the sense of danger, however illusory it may be. After a few hours, they made their way back to the staff entrance. After checking the door was securely locked, Ignis looked at his watch. “I think it may be time to part ways.”

Lyra cut him off with a kiss. With a mischievous glint her eyes, she said, “I was thinking the night didn’t have to end.”

“Oh?” he replied. “What did you have in mind?”

“How about we go back to my place?” she ask.

“Far be it for me to deny a lady,” Ignis replied with a smirk.

\------------

Ignis first met Lyra at a welcome lunch for graduate students in the political science department at University of Lucis. Though it was technically fall, the weather hadn’t yet caught up to the fact; the day was hot and sunny. Walking into the mercifully air conditioned room, Ignis could tell as he looked around that he was the youngest student by several years. Finishing high school at 14 and college four years later meant his classmates would always have the advantage of age over him (though not maturity, he would scornfully think to himself). Ignis seated himself at a table near the exit, a long-standing habit; despite his studies, his duties could pull him away at a moment’s notice. Better to escape quietly if necessary.

He passed the next several minutes waiting for lunch to be served by chatting with the others at the table. Ignis could feel the other first-year students sizing each other up. The past few days of graduate student orientation had found him answering the same few questions over and over. “Who is your advisor? Where did you do your undergrad?” What are your research interests? Are you TAing this semester?” The young woman sitting next to Ignis had a serious face with high cheekbones and tanned skin, framed in dark curly hair. She introduced herself as Lyra, before returning to flipping idly through news articles on her phone until lunch was served. Ignis stood behind her in line, covertly admiring the curve of her shoulders in her sleeveless tank, as she piled a small amount of every dish of the Mediterranean-themed buffet on her plate. After selecting his own lunch, he followed her as she walked back to the table until, to his surprise, she kept walking right out the door.

Bemused, he sat down and resumed conversation with the remaining students.

\------------

Ignis woke with a start. Lyra was curled up on her side, facing away from him, her hair spread across the pillow. He fumbled for his phone on the nightstand. 4:02 am. If he were to sneak back into the citadel, it would need to be soon, he thought. As often as he’d done this, it never got any easier to hustle out of bed out in the dead of night. He leaned over and brushed the hair away to kiss her neck.

Lyra murmured, sleepily “Mmmm… Wha’ time issit?”

“A touch past four,” Ignis replied, as he pulled her up against him.

“Shit,” she groaned. “Why did you wake me up?”

“I need to return to the citadel before the daytime staff begin to arrive around 5. Regrettably, I drifted off as well.” He buried his face in her neck, inhaling the sweet smell of her perfume. Jasmine, with a hint of citrus.

Lyra rolled away from him quickly, grabbing the pillow from under her head. She playfully batted him with it. “Next time, sneak out without waking me, jerk.” Ignis plucks the pillow neatly from Lyra’s hands on her next swing, tossing it carelessly off the bed.

“I hardly think such minor discomfort calls for violence,” he teased, sitting up. As Lyra moved to grab another pillow, he darted forward to push her onto her back. Pinning one wrist on either side of her head, he leaned down and kissed her. Lyra rose to meet him, fervently returning the kiss. As he released her wrists, Lyra wrapped her arms around him, pulling Ignis close.

\------------

After the welcome lunch, Ignis didn’t see Lyra again for over a month. Ignis was sitting near the entrance of the classroom, waiting for a seminar to begin. To his surprise, the antisocial woman from the lunch strode to the front of the class. She leaned forward to rest her elbows on the podium. “Well folks,” she began, “My name is Lyra Martes and Dr. Corvus asked me to guest lecture today. That means you get to spend an hour learning about the topic of my dissertation: ‘Peaceful Shifts in Governance from the Monarchy to the Democratically Elected Lucian Parliament During the Reign of Regis the CXIII.’ Or, as I like to call it, ‘Power to the People.’”

Ignis watched her intently as she lectured animatedly about how the gradual shift in power from benign dictatorship to democratically elected government accelerated under King Regis. As she answered questions from the students, cracked jokes, and made terrible puns, Ignis found himself focusing less on the content of the lecture and more on her dark brown eyes, fringed in long lashes, and how her long, elegant fingers repeatedly tucked her hair behind her ears.

So focused on watching her, Ignis was startled when Lyra ended her lecture. “So it looks like my time is up, but if you ever want to listen to me drone on about this topic ad nauseum, I’m generally in the basement of the social sciences library 10 hours a day.” Ignis rose to follow Lyra as she walked out of the classroom, but paused when he felt a buzz in his pocket. Pulling his phone out, Ignis saw a text message from Noctis.

Noctis: something happened at school. can u pick me up? don’t tell my dad.

Ignis sighed. Looking up, he saw that Lyra was already gone. Perhaps it was for the best, he thought to himself. It wasn’t like him to be smitten enough to approach a woman without a clue of what to say to her. Ignis preferred to always have a plan.

Walking from the classroom to the parking lot, Ignis paused to reply to his charge’s message.

Ignis: Certainly. I shall be there within 15 minutes. What happened?  
Noctis: Uuuuuuh  
Noctis: maybe better to hear it in person  
Noctis: i promise it’s not that bad  
Noctis: i might have punched a guy but he deserved it  
Ignis: I suppose your definition of “not that bad” varies from the standard. You will need to inform his majesty.  
Noctis: uuugh really?  
Ignis: I assure you, it’s preferable he hear it from you rather than the school.  
Noctis: fine -_-  
Noctis: thx ig

Fifteen minutes later, Ignis pulled up to Noctis’ school. The year before he had, to everyone’s surprise, elected to attend a public school. Apparently the transition was not as smooth as all had hoped. Noctis opened the passenger side door and slid in.

“Well?” Ignis asked.

“He was saying shit about my dad. I told him to shut up and he wouldn’t. That’s all,” Noctis replied, buckling his seatbelt while staring sullenly out the window. “Can we just drop it?”

“And the school’s response to your altercation?” Ignis asked.

“Send me home with a warning. I think we know why they let me off easy,” Noctis sighed.

Ignis wasn’t sure if Noctis was more upset about the fight or the special treatment. “Perhaps. Your father is unlikely to do so however. You know how he’s tried to impress upon you the importance of comportment as a representative of the royal family. ”

“Yeah yeah, I know.” Noct and Ignis lapsed into silence for the remainder of the drive. Arriving at the citadel gate, Ignis elected to drop Noctis off at the security checkpoint.

“I need to return to the university, but I shall see you at dinner,” Ignis said as he pulled to a stop. “Please do take a look at the briefing papers I left on your desk last night? His majesty may be more lenient if you are able to converse with him on the latest developments in the war with the Empire.” Noctis nodded, slamming the door car. The gatekeeper, recognizing the prince, waved him in.

\------------

After leaving Lyra’s apartment, Ignis returned to the citadel to shower and change before he was due for an early morning training session with Gladio. As he dried his hair with a towel, Ignis looked wistfully at his bed. Even on a Saturday, Ignis had a full day of meetings and briefings he would need to attend on behalf of the prince, not to mention his own coursework to catch up on. It wouldn’t be the first time Ignis has relied on can after can of Ebony to stay on his feet.    

A short time later, Ignis was struggling through his workout with Gladio, sluggish in his parries and jabs, and not nearly as acrobatic as usual. Gladio, increasingly frustrated by Ignis’ lack of energy, asked “What’s with you today?”

Ignis shook his head, and replied “I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Iggy. We train together almost every day and I can tell when you’ve been up all night,” Gladiolus said, as he swung his greatsword at Ignis’ legs. Ignis barely jumped out of the way.

“I am not so sleep-deprived that you should go easy on me,” Ignis replied, vaulting over Gladio with his polearm, before attempting to lance him in the back. “It was a late night studying.”

Gladio rolled out of the way of the strike, popping up onto his feet with a quickness that was surprising for such a large man. “Heh, sure it was. I don’t know why you think you need to hide that you’re getting laid from me. I ain’t gonna judge. Hell, I’m proud of you. So, tell me – you got a girlfriend? Or is it a different girl each time.”

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

Gladio chuckled, dodging Ignis’ attempts to strike him. “This is too much. Who’d have thought; Iggy playing the field. Well, man, I’m not surprised; you’ve never had a problem attracting the ladies.” Gladio quickly summons his shield, slamming it into Ignis, knocking him onto his back. Swinging his greatsword around, Gladio levels it at Ignis’ throat. “I just hope you’re using protection.”

Ignis sighed. “I yield.” Gladio banished the sword and shield in an array of blue crystalline sparks before reaching a hand down to help Ignis up. “I trust you have not informed Noct of your suspicions regarding my activities?” Ignis asked.

“Nah,” Gladio replied, smirking. “We wouldn’t want his highness to get sulky over being the only virgin left in the citadel.”

“Your discretion is appreciated,” Ignis said dryly.

\------------

After leaving Noctis at the gates of the Citadel, Ignis made his way to the basement of the library in search of Lyra. He found her by a large picture window overlooking the slope the library was built on. Ground squirrels dashed in and out of piles of dry leaves, chasing each other.

“Lyra?” Ignis said quietly.

“One sec,” she replied, continuing to type quickly on her laptop. Turning to look at him, she jumped slightly. “Uhhm, hi. Ignis, right?” she asked.

“You remembered. May I sit?” She nodded, and Ignis walked over to the chair across from her.

“I don’t know why I just pretended I wasn’t sure of your name,” Lyra said, her cheeks reddening. “I recognized you the moment you sat down at the welcome lunch… I mean, I freaking study the reign of the King Regis – of course I’m going to know who the advisor to the prince is. You’re poised to be one of the most powerful people in the Lucian government in the coming decades.”

Ignis smiled at her warmly. “In that case, I have a confession to make as well. I had hoped to find you in the library so that I might ask you to accompany me to dinner one evening.”

The blush on Lyra’s cheeks intensified, and she looked nervously away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ignis. To be honest, I’m a little intimidated.”

“I shan’t push you if you are truly uninterested.” Ignis pulled a small notepad and pen from the inside pocket of his blazer. He tore a sheet out and neatly wrote his phone number. He slid the paper toward her. “You’ll let me know if you reconsider?”

“I… uh… sure?” she stammered.

Ignis stood. “Thank you, Lyra. I will allow you to resume your work. I hope you have a productive afternoon.”

“…Thanks. You have a good afternoon as well,” she replied. Lyra’s turned in her chair to watch Ignis as he walked away.

Once outside the library, Ignis felt his phone vibrate.

Unknown Number: Okay. Friday?

Ignis could not suppress a smile.


	2. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ignis manages to say all the wrong things.

Over the course of the next few months, Ignis found himself spending more and more time with Lyra. This was something rather new for him. After outgrowing his awkward gangly phase, he started to notice a change in the way the opposite sex (and occasionally the same sex) responded to him. He was used to them flocking to Gladio, who smoothly aged from an adorable child to a handsome young man without the usual gawkiness of the early to middle teen years. Girls started to turn their attention to Ignis as well, who would attempt to flirt, ineptly at first, and later with more finesse as he overcame his nerves. His occasional nighttime escapades with Noctis made him realize that sneaking out alone would be quite a bit easier. After the first, somewhat embarrassing excursion with a blonde named Ceres, Ignis fell into a sort of routine. Every few weeks, he would smile at a pretty face, charm and flatter her, until it led to an invitation. The relationships were invariably short-lived; few women seemed to have the patience necessary for Ignis’ busy schedule or his dedication to Noctis. And yet with Lyra, it was different. What started as a dinner and what he presumed would be another one-night stand led to an occasional late-night text message inviting him over. As the trees dropped their last leaves and the frigid air consistently rendered one’s breath visible on the air, Ignis and Lyra started to spend time together during the day, eating lunch on campus, or working in Lyra’s favorite spot in the library. By the time winter hit its stride, Lyra and Ignis saw each other nearly every day.

When the basement of the library became too cold to comfortably work in, Ignis would join Lyra at her small and shabby apartment. The furniture was secondhand, cobbled together from garage sales and Kainslist postings, the ceiling waterstained, and the carpet threadbare. Despite this, Ignis felt comfortable there. What little time Ignis had in which he wasn’t in class, or required at the citadel or by Noctis, he would spend at Lyra’s apartment reading and studying, while Lyra corrected papers or attempted to write. One afternoon in February, he arrived to find the apartment chilly and Lyra bundled up in heavy sweater and scarf, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“The damn heater’s out. I’m waiting for the repair person to show, but they’re taking their sweet time. You should probably just go somewhere warm.”

“Nonsense.” Ignis shed his coat and scarf and started rummaging around in her kitchen, pulling out eggs, butter, flour, and sugar. “Do you have baking powder and cinnamon?”

“Cabinet next to the fridge. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“The oven could provide a small amount of heat and there is no sense in letting it go to waste.” He turned it on to preheat before washing his hands. “Alas, no mixer. I suppose the old-fashioned way will have to suffice.”

Lyra stood huddled next to the oven as Ignis measured and combined ingredients with the practiced air of someone who had performed the task many times before. He mixed some sugar and cinnamon in a small bowl, into which each ball of dough was rolled before being placed on a pan.

They pulled two kitchen chairs as close to the oven as feasible, while they waited for the cookies to bake. Sitting as close to Lyra as he could, Ignis wrapped the blanket around them both to pool their warmth. 

Lyra sighed contentedly as she leaned into Ignis to absorb the heat he always seemed to radiate. “Whatever it is in the oven, it smells really good.”

“The prince referred to these cookies as ‘moogle poms’ when we were young. They were the first thing I ever tried to bake for him.”

Lyra wrapped an arm around his waist under the blanket and rested her head on his shoulder. “Has anyone ever told you that you are disgustingly sweet sometimes?”

“Not the words generally used to describe me, no,” he relied, his voice deadpan.

“What would those be?” she asked, amused.  

“Hmm, let’s see… I’ve heard killjoy, spoilsport, stick-in-the-mud, stick-in-a-location-not-for-polite-company, cold fish, wet blanket, taskmaster, emotionless robot … shall I go on?”

“No, I’d say I’ve got the general idea.” She snuggled closer to him. “I’m glad your programming algorithms let me see a different side of you.”  Before Ignis could respond, they were interrupted by a heavy knock on the door.

“Finally!” Lyra exclaimed as she disentangled herself from the joint cocoon they had formed. Ignis keenly felt the loss of her warmth.

Following the departure of the repairman and the return of heat to the apartment, Ignis and Lyra sat together on her couch working, a plate of cookies within easy reach. Lyra sat with her back against the armrest, laptop open in front of her, feet clad in fluffy socks resting in Ignis’ lap. Periodically, he would pause in his reading to jot down a note in the margin, or highlight a section of the report about civil unrest outside of the wall he was annotating for the prince. After an hour or so of companionable silence, Ignis patted Lyra’s ankle in a signal to move her feet so he could stand.

“What’s up?” she asked, as she smiled and pulled her knees up.

Ignis stood and began gathering papers and books to put into his bag. “Another meeting, sadly. I believe this one is about Prince Noctis’ request to move out of the citadel.”

“That’s a big step for him. Well, I’m sorry to see you go; I was hoping to have you proofread this chapter.”

Ignis, miming offense, replied, “Is that all I’m good for? Correcting your errors?”

“Not all you’re good for,” Lyra winked and reached a hand out to suggestively run it over his thigh. “I’ve got a busy day tomorrow, but we could meet up at night if you’re able to sneak away.”

“Enticing, but I regret that I have a previous engagement. A dinner in which my attendance is required.”

“Oh? What’s the occasion?”

“Embarrassingly enough, my birthday. His Highness wanted to have a small gathering for me to celebrate.” Ignis sighed. “I had attempted to talk him out of it, but with Gladio and Prompto backing him, I was outnumbered.”

“I see,” Lyra replied, snapping her laptop shut forcefully.

“Is something amiss?”

“Well, to be honest, I’m a little hurt. I know we haven’t really talked about whatever _this_ is,” she said, gesturing, “but we’ve been seeing each other for months now. I kinda thought I would merit an invitation to your birthday party. You didn’t even bother to tell me it was your birthday today!”

“Tomorrow, actually. My apologies, Lyra, but it is not appropriate for me to bring a guest to dinners at the citadel.”

“So you’ll sneak me in for a booty call, but gods forbid I go in through the front door?” she replied, sardonically. She set her laptop next to her on the couch and stood up.

Frustrated, and somewhat taken aback by the abrupt shift in mood, Ignis closed his eyes, resting his forehead against his fingertips. The assumption of an unspoken understanding was clearly incorrect. “You’re misinterpreting my intention. I need to keep my personal life separate.”

“No, I’d say your intention is pretty clear. Is this why I’ve never been to the citadel in the daytime, why you never stay overnight? So you can keep your life in neat little boxes; the prince and the citadel in one box, and your fuckbuddy in another? Were you ever planning to introduce me to any of your friends? Does anyone you care about even know I exist?” Lyra continued, her voice rising.

“I can’t have this conversation right now,” he replied, looking at his watch. “I’m due back at the citadel and I don’t have the leisure to explain the intricacies of my duties to the crown.”

“Way to be a condescending asshole. I mean, really? I know this is your career, Ignis,” she said, throwing her arms up in frustration. “But it doesn’t have to be your entire life!”

“If that’s your assessment, then clearly there is no need for elaboration.” The ice in his voice underscored how offensive Ignis found the implication that his duty to the prince and the crown deserved any less than his full commitment.  

Lyra sat heavily on the couch and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes for several seconds before removing them. “It’s like… everything in your life that’s not the prince and the citadel has to find a place where it can, like weeds growing through cracks in a sidewalk. Is that all I am to you?”

The hurt in her voice and the comparison of herself to a weed caught him off guard. The ire he felt dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, leaving him feeling confused and inexplicably guilty. Ignis looked away, avoiding her eyes. “No, I …. I don’t know. This… us…” He struggled to find words. “It was not an entanglement I had planned.”

Lyra closed her eyes, tears forming in the corners. “I think you’d better go. You’re going to be late.”   

“Lyra…”

“Just go.”

\------

That night, Ignis lay awake, unable to sleep. He had set all his thoughts and feelings about the unsettling altercation with Lyra aside during his meeting and the rest the evening, but they were all rushing into his head now. What _was_ he doing with Lyra? He’d never been in a relationship before; is that what this was? It had all happened so gradually, he never stopped to think that yes, maybe he had a girlfriend. He rolled over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Following that line of thinking, if Lyra were his girlfriend, did they just break up? He tried to parse through his feelings on the matter, before he had a blinding flash of realization. Moving quickly, he rolled out of bed and began shedding his pajamas. Reaching into the hamper, he pulled out the clothes he had been wearing earlier, tugging them on with haste. Within minutes he was pulling out of the garage beneath the citadel, driving to Lyra’s apartment.

Standing at her door, he went to knock, hesitating a moment before rapping loudly with his knuckles. Ignis could hear movement in the apartment; several seconds later the door opened a crack, through which he could see Lyra’s face, her expression a cross between wary and exhausted. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her head, and she was dressed for bed in chocobo pajama pants and a t-shirt two sizes too big that read “University of Accordo.”

“It’s late, Ignis. What do you want?”

“May I please I come in? I would like to explain what I was unable to adequately put into words earlier.”

Lyra pulled the door open and stepped out of the way. “You’re here now; may as well.” She returned to where she had been sitting on the couch, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

Ignis shut the door behind him and sat on the opposite end of the couch, turning to face Lyra. She eyed him expectantly.

“Please accept my apologies for my graceless words this afternoon. I wasn’t able to sufficiently explain earlier because I had yet to fully understand myself,” Ignis began, the expression on his face more earnest than Lyra had seen before. “Perhaps I should start at the beginning… I was chosen to be Noct’s advisor 10 years ago, when I was still quite young. Since then, I have lived in the citadel, serving as his companion, but also studying and learning all I could about the Lucian crown, the royal family, Lucian governance, the history of the country, the prophecies, and countless other subjects in which I would need to be adroit that I may best serve Prince Noctis. I have also endeavored to guide him, to tutor him, see to his needs and wellbeing, and serve as his confidant and friend.  From the time I was chosen, my life hasn’t been my own.”

His eyes softened. “To have you in my life… to have a life outside my duty…I suppose I wanted to have you to myself; to have something all of my own, separate from the prince. I didn’t want to have to share yet another part of my life.”

“Oh, Ignis...” she said, shaking her head slowly. “I think I understand better now, but it hurts to be treated like an afterthought. I care about you and I’m not sure I want to sign on to being on the periphery of your life.”

The sadness in her voice pierced Ignis to his core. He moved closer to her on the couch, taking her hand in his. “I do not wish to end whatever this is between us, but I’m not yet ready to merge these two worlds.  Can I ask for you to be patient with me?”

“I can try.” Lyra leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. They sat there, silent, lost in their own thoughts for several minutes, until Lyra yawned. “What time is it?”

Ignis glanced at his watch. “12:52 a.m.”

“Happy Birthday,” she said softly. “How old are you now?”

“Nineteen.”

Lyra’s jaw dropped. She sat up and twisted to face him. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“By no means,” he said putting his arms around her and pulling her towards him to nestle against his chest. “On this day, 19 years ago, at 3:43 a.m. Ignis Scientia came into this world.”

She closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. “Shit. Eight years difference. I knew I should have looked you up on Moogle before I slept with you.”

“Does the age disparity bother you?” he asked, a hint of anxiety in his voice that Lyra had not heard before.

“A little. Although if I couldn’t tell you were that much younger, I suppose it shouldn’t make a difference. I guess I should just be glad you’re not jailbait.” She smiled and poked him in the ribcage. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, kiddo?”

“It is getting rather late. Would it be presumptuous to ask if I might stay the night?”

“Really? No sneaking out in the middle of the night?”

“And I’ll even prepare breakfast.”

“Well, in that case... ” Ignis scooped her up in his arms, standing up. She squealed, “What are you doing?”

“I believe you mentioned you wanted to go to bed?” he replied, walking toward her bedroom and kicking the half-open door wide.

“To sleep!”

“I think I can persuade you otherwise. It is, after all, my birthday.” He tossed her on the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read and commented and left kudos! 
> 
> In this chapter, I’m trying to strike a balance between Ignis’ relative maturity and the fact that he is a teenager. He may have racked up a few notches on his bedpost, but he’s still figuring out this whole relationship thing.


	3. Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn a little bit more about Ignis’ interests outside of his duty. Special guest appearances by Regis and all the chocobros!

 “I’m relying on you, Ignis, to see that he rises to the challenge.” Regis rose from his desk to stand beside Ignis, placing a hand on Ignis’ shoulder. “Would that he had your maturity. If in six months I am not satisfied he can successfully live on his own, he will be moved back into his quarters in the citadel. I trust you to be objective in your assessment of his capabilities.”

“Certainly, your majesty. I seek only what is best for the prince.”

“I am grateful, my boy, for all that you do for him. I only hope my wayward son recognizes it as well.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” Ignis replied, warmed by the praise. “If I have your leave to go, I will see that his highness begins sorting through his belongings well in advance of moving day.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Regis waved him away as Ignis gave an abbreviated bow and strode purposefully out of the king’s study. He began making a mental list of all that would need to be accomplished in the next few weeks. It had taken months of negotiation before Noctis was allowed to try living on his own outside of the citadel. At 16 (almost 17, as Noct liked to remind everyone) Regis was skeptical, but finally relented after Ignis began to openly show his support for Noctis’ bid for independence. Fortunately, the search for a suitable apartment was relatively simple; there were, after all; only a few buildings in Insomnia with the necessary security measures and proximity to the citadel. Also necessary was securing an apartment nearby for Ignis, who felt it would be prudent for him to remain near the prince. To Ignis, it was a relief to be moving out of the citadel and to have, for the first time, a space that was all his own.

On the elevator ride up to the residential floors, Ignis felt his phone buzz with a series of text notifications.

Noctis: hey ig prompto is here to help me. can u bring us some food???  
Noctis: plz?  
Noctis: also do u you know where I left my bookbag?

Ignis rolled his eyes. Noct’s forgetfulness did not bode well for his ability to live unsupervised.

Ignis: I wondered how long it would take you to notice your bag was missing. I have it in my room because you left it in my car. Again.  
Ignis: I’m on my way up, but I’ll stop by the kitchen en route.  
Noctis: thx ur the best

\------

Ten days later, Lyra sat on the floor of Ignis’ new apartment, pulling books out of boxes and placing them gently in the shelves of the bookcase in front of her. Progress was slow thanks to her tendency to pause to peruse every other book, flipping through the pages, stopping to read a passage aloud. Ignis enjoyed watching her delight in the process.

“Aww, you have all the Harry Potters. I didn’t think those were your kind of thing.”

Ignis laughed. “You judge me too harshly; they’re very engaging and well-written.”

“You’re a Ravenclaw; I can just tell.” She flipped open _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_. “Shit, Ig! This is a first edition!” With faux stealth, she moved to hide the book under her shirt.

“I saw that.”

Disgruntled, she pulled the book back out again. “Shhhh, it’s okay. I know,” she said to the book. “You would have been so much happier with me, but what can we do?” She stroked the cover gently, running her fingers over the embossed lettering before returning to her task.

She finished shelving a box of novels, and moved onto a large and heavy carton that she struggled to pull closer to her. Opening the box, Lyra pulled out a substantial volume. “You have so many art books!” She read the title aloud of each as she removed books, stacking them in front her. “ _Art: A Lucian History, History of Modern Art, Canvases and Careers: Institutional Change in the Lucian Painting Word; Methods and Theories of Art History; The Dada Artists Collection._ I never knew you had this side to you.”

“I minored in art history in college.” Wistfully, he continued. “That is one thing I will miss about residing in the citadel. The art that adorned the walls was unparalleled. ” Kneeling down next to Lyra, he carefully pulled a volume out of the box. “This one was a gift from the prince when I was graduated from college. I am very fond of it.”

He handed it carefully to Lyra who exclaimed “Holy Six, this thing weighs a ton!”

“Eighteen pounds,” he said with a smile. “Prompto insisted on weighing it on my bathroom scale.”

“ _The Art Museum_ ,” she read aloud, repositioning so that she should sit cross-legged with it spread open across her lap. She slowly turned the thick glossy pages. “What a lovely gift.”

“Though I may complain about him quite frequently, his highness can be quite thoughtful and kind. I am fortunate to call him my friend.” Ignis smiled fondly. “He’s always had a way of finding the perfect, most attentive gift… One year for Shiva’s Day, he spent weeks painstakingly creating a diorama of moogles playing instruments for Gladio’s sister, Iris. He painstakingly crafted each individual moogle and instrument out of paper mache and hand-painted and arranged them.”

“That’s incredibly sweet!”

“I offered to assist in the project, but he wanted to complete it all on his own. Gifts have always been a way he shows he cares. Although the book itself is quite attentive to my interests, it was the inscription that I found particularly touching.”

Lyra flipped the book to the inside front cover.

> _Dear Ignis,_
> 
> _Congratulations on finishing college before most people even start._
> 
> _Show off._
> 
> _You even managed it with me bugging you every five minutes asking you questions or asking for help. Now that you’re done, there’s one more thing I’d like to ask. Although it’s hopefully still a long way off, when I become king, I’d like you take over curating the Royal Gallery. I know it’s a lot to ask, what with all the other stuff you have on your plate, but I know no one could do it better._
> 
> _Noct_

“Wow… does he really mean that?” asked Lyra.

“I believe so, but I suspect he doesn’t know much about what goes into the task. I’m not sure he realizes that I would be woefully unprepared,” Ignis said, with an amused undercurrent to his voice. “As they say, it is the thought that counts. Perhaps I can still play a role in curation of the gallery, such as assisting in selection of new acquisitions.”

“He has faith in your abilities,” she replied, smiling. “I can’t believe you never mentioned your love of art before! Although considering how it’s like pulling teeth to get you to share anything about yourself, I guess I shouldn’t be all that surprised. Are you an artist as well, and I just never knew?”

“Heavens, no. Sadly, I am inept at anything more creative than crafting a new recipe. Regardless, it’s not the act of creation I love, but the works in all their variation and subtlety, how each artist has a style as distinct and idiosyncratic as a fingerprint. Most of all, I find the examination of pieces within the context of their time to be most fascinating.”

“Why didn’t you major in art history?” Lyra asked.

Ignis pushed his glasses up his nose with a fingertip. “Hmm… I suppose it seemed prudent to major in political science. While I am fascinated by art history, it isn’t precisely relevant. Although I suppose you could make the case that the progression of art mirrors the progression of society. So many of the works of the early Lucian masters dealt with the prophecy, which has become increasingly imperative…” He trailed off pensively.

“Just out of curiosity, would you have majored in something different if you weren’t being groomed to be Noct’s advisor?”

“Perhaps. It doesn’t do to dwell on what might have been.” He looked away, busying himself with shelving the books Lyra had stacked up. The conversation was headed in a direction he was not comfortable with. Changing the subject abruptly, he asked “What did Dr. Corvus say about your most recent dissertation chapter?”

Lyra raised an eyebrow at the sudden conversational shift, but didn’t pursue it. “A lot of red ink, but I’m used to it. The frustrating part is that he has me change things in one draft, forgets, and then has me change them back in the next draft. Still, progress is being made. I think I’ll be ready to file for graduation in May or June.”

“That is incredible news, certainly cause for celebration,” he said, taking the heavy book from her lap and gently setting it on the floor off to the side. Turning back towards her, he took his face in her hands, and kissed her gently.

\-----

A short while later, a heavy knock came at the door as Lyra was pulling her jeans on.

“Just a moment,” Ignis called, loudly, as his buttoned the last button on his shirt. Hastily tucking it in, he went to answer the door. Hand on the doorknob, he looked back at Lyra who had finished dressing.

“It’s okay, I’m decent now,” she said.

Ignis opened the door to find Gladio on the other side, carrying a pizza.

Taking in the sight of the slightly disheveled Ignis and Lyra, Gladio raised an eyebrow and said, “Hey. I thought you guys might want some grub.”

“Thank you, Gladio. I admit, unpacking has made me quite peckish. Please, come in,” Ignis said, standing aside to let Gladio enter before shutting the door behind him.

“Unpacking, right,” Gladio replied, sitting the pizza on the kitchen island. “Hey, Lyra. How’s it goin’?”

“Gladio, hi! It’s nice to see you again,” Lyra said, sitting down on a stool next to the island. “You must be psychic, because I was craving pizza.” She peeked under the lid of the pizza box to see the pizza was adorned with half pepperoni and half peppers and tomatoes. “Aw, you remembered my favorite!”

Peering over her shoulder, Ignis sighed. “I see you’ve neglected my preferences.” Ignis was not in the slightest bit surprised. Since meeting Lyra two months before, it was clear that Gladio quite liked her. Ignis liked to think it was because of his own happiness, but he suspected it might have something to do with the way she filled out her jeans. Not that his best friend would ever make a move on her; as Gladio so crudely phrased it, ‘bros before hoes.’

“Hey, not every pizza shack makes prosciutto and potato pizza! And shouldn’t you be buying _us_ the pizza? We’re the ones helping you move,” Gladio replied.

“Says the man who waited until we were nearly finished unpacking to make an appearance.”

“I was helping his royal moodiness with his own packing! No way he’s going to be ready when the movers arrive.”

“In any event, we are grateful for the sustenance,” Ignis said, as he walked into the kitchen to pull plates and napkins from the newly-stocked kitchen cabinets. One thing that had been a necessity when he was searching for an apartment was a large kitchen. He had come to enjoy cooking, a hobby he had originally taken up to try to bring a smile to Noct’s face. While he still had not concocted the correct recipe for the Tenebrae pastry Noctis remembered so fondly, Ingis enjoyed experimenting and inventing. The kitchen in his apartment was spacious and open, with smooth marble countertops and a gas stove and oven. A large island bridged the kitchen and living area, with several stools arranged on one side. Large windows and French doors opened onto a small patio on the far side of the living room, bathing the apartment in light. All in all, Ignis was content with his new home.  

“So, what’s new with you, Lyra?” Gladio asked

“Not much. Still writing, still TAing,” she said, pulling a few slices of the pepper and tomato half onto her plate.

“She indicated she will likely graduate this May or June,” Ignis chimed in, as he sat down.

“Damn, Lyra! That’s great! What do you have planned for after?” Gladio asked, loading his own plate with several slices of pepperoni.

“I’ve started applying for jobs. Mostly teaching positions,” she said around a large bite.

“Oh yeah? Is that what you want to do? Teach?”

“I think so. Funny thing is that I didn’t think I liked teaching until I actually had to TA to pay the bills. Now it’s just… when the students have that ‘a-ha!’ moment when they finally understand a concept or make a connection… It’s just so rewarding.” She blushed slightly. “That sounds cheesy as hell. “

“No, no, I got ya. I feel the same way when Noct knocks me on my ass in training,” Gladio replied. “Doesn’t happen often,” he quickly added. 

“I would love to be to be hired to teach at University of Accordo, where I did my undergrad.”

“In Altissia?” Ignis asked. “That’s a considerable distance away.”

“Yeah… Probably won’t happen though,” she said, folding and refolding her napkin. “But a girl can dream, right?”

\------

The following day, Ignis appeared at Noctis’ bedroom door at the agreed upon time of 8 am. The room was mostly packed, much to Ignis’ surprise. Unsurprising, however, was Noct’s prone form under the blankets, with Prompto sprawled out in bed next to him.

“Good morning!” Ignis said loudly as he pulled the blankets from the bed, exposing the duo to the cool morning air of the bedroom.

“Need… sleep… C’mon Ignis, give ‘em back,” Noctis mumbled, curling into a ball against Prompto for warmth.

“Yeah, Iggy. Five more minutes? Please?” Prompto added, opening one eye.

“You can have five more minutes while I fetch coffee for you two, though you will do so without the blankets,” he replied, balling the blankets up leaving them in a pile on the couch in the next room. When he returned a few minutes later juggling three cups of coffee, he found Prompto padding out of the bedroom in search of blankets, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

“Harsh, dude. Harsh.”

“Hush. Here is your coffee,” Ignis said, as he set two of the mugs down on an end table of dark, polished wood. “The one on the left is Noct’s, which I know you will not enjoy.”

“Yeah, ugh, six sugars. Don’t worry; I won’t mix them up.” Prompto picked up the two mugs and slowly shuffled back into Noct’s bedroom. Ignis sipped from his own mug thoughtfully as he surveyed the piles of boxes that scattered the room. Most of Noct’s personal belongings would be moved to his new apartment, the furnishings for which were already in place. Ignis approved of Noctis’ design choices; unlike the dark, heavily-carved and ornate furniture of the citadel, the new furniture was sleek and modern.

Though Noctis may not have started the day to Ignis’ satisfaction, once he was fully awake he rose to the occasion. By 9 am, he had showered and dressed and had finished off the last few boxes that needed packing. He courteous and helpful to the movers, and once the truck had arrived at the new apartment, he took charge in directing the process of allocating the boxes and miscellaneous items to their proper places. As a result, Ignis was relieved that he would be able to report to the king that the experiment of Noct’s independence was off to an excellent start. Gladio, who had met them at the apartment shortly after the moving truck arrived, expressed his satisfaction to Ignis once they had a moment to relax.

“Sometimes the kid surprises me. I thought he’d back in the citadel within a month, but maybe he really can pull this off,” he said to Ignis. They stood in the kitchen drinking Ebony while Prompto and Noctis chatted excitedly in the living room, connecting video game consoles to the new TV.

“Indeed. Perhaps he is ready after all,” Ignis replied.

“When are you gonna tell him about Lyra?” Gladio asked quietly.

“The appropriate moment has yet to arrive. With all the turmoil lately… moving out of the citadel, his father’s declining health… I don’t want Noctis to feel I am abandoning him,” Ignis replied.

“Hasn’t he said anything about you being gone a lot?”

“No. His deduction is that my absences are school-related. Which, to be fair, is much of the time I’ve spent away from the citadel these last several months.”

“He’ll be hurt that you’ve kept it from him this long.”

Ignis sighed. “You are correct, I fear. When the time is right, I’ll introduce him. Soon, is my hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some random notes on this chapter:  
> Oops. I had intended this fic to be about Ignis’ life outside of Noct, but then I end up writing a chapter that focuses a lot on their relationship.  
> This is probably obvious to you artists and art historians out there, but I do not know what I’m talking about. Please let me know if I got anything wrong and made Ignis sound like an idiot!  
> I realized a few days after writing about Ignis’ love of art that the loss of his sight is just that much more awful, and I am an awful terrible person for adding insult to injury.  
> There is a restaurant in my town that does a prosciutto and potato pizza with crème fraiche. It is amazing and Ignis would love it.


	4. Summer - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ignis is faced with a difficult decision.

“Are you sure this is really the kind of thing that the prince would go for? I’m worried this will be too… I don’t know… plebian? I mean, we have a cheesecake from Costco. Is that a deal-breaker? Has he even set foot inside a Costco?”

They were in Ignis’ kitchen, preparing food for a graduation party for Lyra, as Ignis had offered the use of his larger and better appointed apartment. She had wanted to keep it small, inviting a few friends from grad school, and Ignis inviting Noctis and Gladiolus. Travel from Accordo had been too difficult for Lyra’s family to attend the commencement ceremony the night before, so Ignis sat in the theater alone, beaming with pride as she walked across the stage in her black robe with three chevrons on the sleeves, her advisor placing the velvet hood around her neck, symbolizing her achievement.

“I have not, and I am still very fond of you.” Ignis teased. “I assure you, the prince’s palate is quite pedestrian. Given his way, he’d eat chicken strips and fries for every meal.” He carefully poured a savory egg filling into the pie crusts he had prepared for the mini-quiches Lyra requested.

“If you say so, I guess… It’s just… I don’t know how to act around royalty.” She stirred balsamic vinegar and lemon zest into a bowl of diced tomatoes and onions for bruschetta. She scooped a small amount into a spoon and held it up for Ignis to taste.

“Hmm…” he pondered. “Needs a few teaspoons of capers; there are some in the door of the refrigerator. You needn’t worry about his Highness. He is a not one to become hung up on etiquette; quite the opposite. No, he is often somewhat sheepish regarding his royal status. After two years in public school, I believe he is far more comfortable with ‘the plebes’ as you put it.”   

She leaned over to give him a quick peck on the lips. “You’d better go if you’re going to be on time picking him up. Don’t worry about the quiches; I’ll take ‘em out of the oven when the timer goes off.”

Ignis looked at his watch. “Indeed. I shall be back shortly.”

Twenty minutes later, Ignis paused outside his apartment door and turned to Noctis. “A moment, Noct. There is something I must tell you; something that I have kept from you for some time now.”

Noctis looked stricken. “It is my dad? Is he alright?”

“No, it is something of a more… personal nature.” With that, Ignis could see Noct visibly relax.

“Oooohkay…”

“This gathering I’ve asked you attend… It’s for…” Ignis paused. “I’ve… been seeing someone.”

“That’s great!” Noctis’ face lit up, and he playfully smacked Ignis on the arm. “Finally! Tell me about her? Him?” Noctis looked at him questioningly.

“Her,” Ignis replied. “Her name is Lyra. I think you will like her.”

“Hey, if you like her, she can’t be that bad. How long have you been going out?”

Ignis paused before answering. “Nine months.”

“Wait, what? Nine months? What the hell Iggy! You’ve had a girlfriend for nine months and you didn’t bother to tell me?”

“I feared you would feel my loyalties were divided. That if I had someone in my life, that you would think I’d abandoned you.”

“You’re my friend! You think I wouldn’t want you to be happy?”

The conversation was going about as well as Ignis expected; which is to say, not well at all. He deeply regretted concealing his relationship for so long.

“I am truly sorry, Noct. This party is for her; she was just graduated with her doctorate.”

“Shit, Ignis, you spring this on me and now I have to act all normal?”

“Please, give her a chance,” he said as he opened the door. Noctis walked in and looked around. After closing the door behind him, Ignis waved Lyra over and put a hand on Noct’s shoulder, which he shrugged off.

 “Your Highness, it’s such a pleasure to finally meet you.” Lyra started to reach to shake his hand, thought better of it, and bowed inelegantly instead.

“Just call me Noctis. Congratulations on graduating.”

“Thank you, Noctis. Ignis has told me so much about you.”

“Wish I could say the same about you,” he replied, folding his arms and shooting Ignis a dark look.

“Um, yeah I guess he was trying to keep this on the DL,” she replied, awkwardly. “Well, there’s food in the kitchen, drinks in the cooler on the patio, so um…” she trailed off.

“Uh, thanks.” Noctis spent the next hour sitting by himself in a corner, texting with Prompto. While circulating with her guests and making sure they all had food and drinks, Lyra kept glancing over at him, uncomfortable with how isolated he seemed. She pulled a chair up next to him. “Hey,” he said barely glancing up from his phone.

“Hey,” she replied. “Thanks for coming. Ignis really wanted you to be here.”

“Yeah, no prob. So… um, graduation. That’s cool. Iggy said it was your doctorate. So you’re like a doctor now?” he said, still looking at his phone.

“Sorta. It’s a PhD in political science, so not a real doctor. I actually wrote a lot about the King for my dissertation.”

“My dad? Um… okay? So, good stuff about him?” Noctis finally glanced up at her.

“Yeah, mostly. He’s a good king,” she replied. 

“…Cool,” he said, turning back to his screen.

“So, um would you like something to drink? Or some food?” Lyra asked.

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

“Okay… Well… I should check on the… uh… Ignis…” she said awkwardly, standing.

Fed up with his sullen, antisocial behavior, Gladiolus waited until Lyra has walked away before roughly grabbed Noctis by the arm, pulling him to his feet and out on to the patio.

“Listen to me, you little shit,” he hissed through clenched teeth, tightening his grip on Noctis’ arm. “You need to cut Iggy some slack; after everything he does for you, he’s not allowed to make one mistake? Yeah, he screwed up by not telling you sooner, but you need to get over yourself. You’re not the center of the fucking universe. Get in there, stop being a jackass to Lyra, and act like a normal human being at a party. And if you don’t, you’ll be sure to regret it in training tomorrow,” Gladiolus threatened.

Noctis yanked his arm out of Gladiolus’ grip and rubbed where his fingers had been digging in. “Fine! But I’m still mad at him!”

“Like I give a shit. Now move.”

Gladiolus’ intervention seemed to be effective, as Noctis returned to the party with a better attitude, making small talk with Lyra’s friends, who tried to hide their nervousness at talking to the prince. Ignis was pleased to see him make an effort to put people at ease, although he was less pleased to see Gladiolus sneak him a beer. Noctis still had over a year before he reached the legal drinking age of 18. He decided to let it go.

After a few hours, the food was mostly gone, the dessert was eaten, the gifts were opened. Most of the guests had left; only Gladiolus and Noctis remained. They sat around Ignis’ coffee table playing a card game with Lyra while Ignis began cleaning up. After a particularly contentious hand, Lyra leaped up in triumph.

“HA! In your face, Prince!"

“Yeah, yeah, I let you win,” he replied tossing his cards down and standing up. “Anyway, I’m out.” As Gladiolus and Lyra resumed playing, Noctis joined Ignis in the kitchen where he was washing dishes in the sink.

“Hey, you know it was shitty thing you did, not telling me about Lyra,” Noct said to him.

Earnestly, Ignis turned to Noctis and said “I _am_ sorry, Noct. I displayed very poor judgment, and I hope you will not let it color your opinion of Lyra.”

“You’re lucky; she’s pretty great. Weird, but great,” he replied. “Look, I kind of get why you’d hide your girlfriend from me; I am pretty irresistible. Wouldn’t want your girl leaving you for the prince,” he said smirking.

“Ass,” Ignis replied, flicking soapy water at Noctis. “Forgiven?”

“Yeah… It’s just… You can trust me to be your friend, you know.”

Ignis smiled softly. “I know. Thank you, Noct.”

\----

Ignis pulled a tray of pastries out of the oven. He had returned to the citadel to use the kitchens; his own lacked the convection oven he preferred for baking. As he stood up to set the pan on the counter, one of the citadel sous chefs, Orris, walked in.

“Looks good!” Orris said.

“I hope you don’t mind me using the kitchen,” Ignis replied.

“Don’t mind at all. You’re always baking _something_. I didn’t know you had such a sweet tooth, Ignis.”

“It’s not me, per se…”

As he waited for the pastries to cool, he and Orris chatted about cooking.

Finally, he was able to package the pastries and leave. He drove to Noctis’ apartment building and let himself in. After removing his shoes and putting on slippers, he walked down the short hallway to the living area. Glancing in Noct’s bedroom as his passed, he was dismayed by the mess he surveyed. The living room and kitchen were no better, with dishes, take-out containers, empty bottles, and trash littering every surface. The patio door stood open. Ignis sighed. In the weeks since Lyra’s party, Noctis had slipped into a bout of depression that Ignis was at a loss to handle. Perhaps a tidy apartment would help put in him a better state of mind, he thought, as he set the bag of pastry on the counter and began to clean.

A few hours later, the apartment was cleaned to Ignis’ satisfaction, and he had moved on to preparing dinner when he heard the door to the apartment open and Noctis kick off his shoes. In his slippers, Noctis shuffled into the kitchen, bookbag slung over his shoulder.

“Don’t mind me,” Ignis said.

“I mind the vegetables,” Noct replied, irritation underlining each word. Not sure how to proceed, Ignis fell back into his old patterns of nagging.

“Don’t. Your diet is far from ideal,” Ignis replied. “You need to consider the nutritional value of your food and learn to cook for yourself—“

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Remember to wash your hands before dinner.” As if just noticing the tidier state of the apartment, Noctis looked under the table in alarm. “The comics are on the shelf. Lady Lunafreya’s notebook is in the drawer. I suggest you write back soon.”

“I know.”

“And may I ask where the button is from?”

“My uniform, I guess. Didn’t notice.”

“No matter. I’ll fix it once I get home. Leave your uniform out.”

As Noctis changed out of this school uniform into sweats, Ignis finished cooking the meal and set the table. Clearly hungry, Noctis devoured his meal in silence, carefully avoiding the vegetables. Afterward, he flung himself on the sofa. “I’m stuffed,” he said, contentedly.

“No room for dessert?” Ignis asked, heartened. It was the first time Noctis’ mood seemed have lightened, however minutely, in weeks.

Later, as Ignis was leaving, Noctis walked him to the door. Ignis reminded him to look after his apartment a little better. “If you can’t prove yourself capable of living alone, you’ll be moved back into the palace,” he warned as he pulled a file out of his briefcase. “This is a political report. Please have a look at it. I’ll be by later to explain in detail.”

“Can’t it wait until after exams?”

“I understand your studies are important. But you are first and foremost the successor to the throne. Do bear that in mind.” Ignis realized his error immediately, as Noct’s demeanor changed and the gloominess that had so recently diminished returned full force. Dejected, Ignis left.  

\----

“I have some news,” Lyra said. She sat across from him in the small bistro they considered “their spot.” The food was good enough to satisfy Ignis, and cheap enough to satisfy Lyra. They had both been feeling out of sorts; Ignis unsettled by Noctis’ depression, and Lyra feeling unmoored after graduating. She had expressed to Ignis, along with the expected relief and excitement of finally finishing her doctorate, a strange sense of loss of identity. She had been a student for so long, to suddenly not be one was strange.

“I’ve been offered a job, at University of Accordo. It’s only as an adjunct, so I’ll probably have to waitress or something to make ends meet, but I’ll be teaching a poli sci class or two every semester. And who knows! Maybe it will lead to something permanent once I get my foot in the door.“

“It sounds as though you’ve already decided to take the position.”

“Well, yeah. I already accepted the job. This is my dream.”

Ignis struggled to contain his reaction. He wanted to feel happy for Lyra, but the thought of her moving so far away filled him with despair. Though he had not ventured to say the words out loud yet, he had come to recognize what he felt for her was love.

“Did you consider the analyst job at the citadel I recommended to you?”

“Once I got the call from UOA, I cancelled the interview. I know you were really excited about me possibly working there, but it’s not for me. It would have been something I would have done to have a paycheck, but not because it’s what I really wanted. I love academia.”

“I see. I am happy for you,” he said, in a slightly strangled voice, looking away.

“Ignis… I don’t have to go alone,” she said softly, taking his hand across the table.

He turned back to look at her. “I should think you would be aware by now that is not an option.”

“Just… think about it? Please?”  

After promising he would consider Lyra’s offer, he dropped her off at her apartment and drove home. In the elevator ride up from the garage, rather than hitting the button for his own floor, he stopped in the lobby instead. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he shut it off as he walked out the front door of the building. He walked for hours, at first through neighborhoods like his own, quiet and posh lined with tall apartment buildings with doormen, then less upscale but still respectable residences. He then walked through the commercial district, past cozy restaurants with outdoor patios, packed with couples enjoying the warm summer evening, past shops with colorful displays, and bars in which people crowded in twos and threes outside, smoking cigarettes. He eventually came to a large park, the gate to which stood open. Inside he sat on a carved granite bench that faced an elaborate fountain of Titan holding the meteor, water spraying upwards from the latter. Occasionally the wind would cause the water to mist toward Ignis, but he didn’t move. No matter how much thought about it, he was no closer to a decision. Either option seemed unfathomable to him. It wasn’t logical that he would have difficulty choosing. What was nine months with Lyra weighed against 10 years? His life was here, in Insomnia. And yet he couldn’t deny the tugging at his heart, urging him to throw it all away. He leaned forward, resting elbows on knees, head in hands. Ignis sat like this for some time, the moon rising above him. Eventually, he gave up and hailed a ride home on his phone.

\-----

The following day, Ignis attended a council meeting regarding increased Imperial activity on Noctis’ behalf. Most troubling were reports that magical power was inhibited during the battle. With as heavily as Lucis forces relied on magic to maintain an edge over Niflheim in the war, the implications could be very grave. Troubled, Ignis walked out into the hall after the conclusion of the meeting.

“Ignis,” he heard behind him. Turning, he saw King Regis.

“Your Majesty,” he replied.

“How is Noctis,” the King asked. This surprised Ignis. Since moving out, Noctis had been in touch with his father daily. Had something changed he was not aware of?

“He has begun his final exams. I encouraged him to study, but his level of preparation is… questionable. As for his life away from the palace, I’ve expressed my concerns about his dietary balance. Unfortunately, those concerns seem to be falling on deaf ears.” The longer Ignis and Noctis were friends, the more uncomfortable he was reporting to the King regarding Noctis’ activities. Prompto referred to it as ‘narcing on the prince.’ He tried to tell himself that he was doing it in Noctis’ best interests, and yet he was unable to quell the resulting unease.

“Thank you,” Regis replied.

“But of course.” Ignis bowed. Noticing the cane Regis now used, Ignis asked “Has the wall taken such a toll on your Majesty?”

“It would appear so.” The king walked slowly toward the window and looked out over the city below. “Only the king can create the Wall and protect his people. If something foul should befall me, the heir of Lucis must take the throne. But I will end this war before that.” Regis turned to look at Ignis. “I leave Noct in your care.”

“Understood,” Ignis replied, bowing again. With the king’s words, Ignis knew that the decision he faced regarding his future with Lyra had been made. How could he possibly turn his back on the king? He left the citadel and returned to his apartment, attempting to push thoughts of Lyra aside. As he typed up his notes from the meeting for Noctis, adding his own analysis and research, as he prepared himself dinner, as he attempted to read the newspaper, his thoughts kept turning back to her. Finally, as he finished sewing the errant button back onto Noctis’ uniform, he gave up. He needed to see her face, hear her voice, to cradle her in his arms. To ask her to stay. He pulled out his phone.

Ignis: Are you awake?  
Lyra: Yep  
Ignis: May I come over?  
Lyra: Yep  
Ignis: Are you capable of using any other words?  
Lyra: Yep

He arrived at her apartment a short time later. She was dressed for sleep, in shorts and a soft tank, her hair loose around her shoulders. The sight of Lyra soothed him. Once inside, he pulled her against him in a tight embrace. “I love you,” he said softly.

“I know, silly.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “It’s nice to hear, but I don’t need words to know that. I love you too,” she said, pulling back to look up at him. “Where did this come from all of a sudden?”

“It has been a trying day. It made me realize how much happier my life has been with you in it.” Gently cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her. “Lyra, please don’t go to Altissia. You can teach here, there are several universities in the city where you can live your dream. I can entreat the king, we can find a way for you stay in Insomnia. You don’t have to leave.”

Lyra pulled away from him angrily. “Wait a second… You tell me you love me to try to manipulate me to stay?” she said, in disbelief. “No, that’s not how this works! You can’t just… wield emotions like weapons, or use your connections to bribe me into forgetting something I’ve worked toward for years and years!”

“No, that’s not… I would never… Why do you always assume the worst regarding my intentions? Have I ever given you cause for that? It’s just…I just… I can’t… I can’t bear to see you go,” he pleaded.

“You don’t have to!” she said, taking his hands in hers. “Come with me. Come to Altissia.” Her eyes implored him.   

“His highness… the king has entrusted his care to me. I cannot…”

Lyra released his hands and turned away. “I know you love Noctis, but you didn’t choose this life!” Her breath hitched, and he could hear the tears in her voice that she was desperately trying to hold back. “Have you ever thought about what you really want out of life? Is this it? Picking up after the prince, attending meetings and briefings so he doesn’t have to… You’re 19 with a 16-year-old son!”

“It’s not that simple! I have a duty, I have responsibilities!”

“I know that, but you were a child! They took you when you were a _child_ , when you couldn’t consent and said ‘You are going to live the rest of your life for another person.’ Have you never thought about how fucked up that is? It’s just….It’s not right, Ignis! You deserve to make your life what _you_ want it to be! You deserve to make your own choices!” As she finally gave into her sobs, Ignis wrapped his arms around her from behind. She leaned back into him, covering her face with her hands. He held her as she cried, until her sobs began to slow and turn irregular.

“Come,” he said softly. “Let’s go to bed; we can talk about it more in the morning.” She nodded, sniffling, and he led her back to her bedroom. Lyra crawled between the sheets as Ignis shed his clothes, uncharacteristically leaving them in a pile on the floor. Under the covers, they lay in silence until they both fell into a troubled sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being much longer than I expected, so instead y'all will get two chapters for the price of one!


	5. Summer - Part 2

When Ignis woke, Lyra was gone and her side of the bed was cold. He rolled over to glance at the clock on the nightstand; seeing the time, he groaned. He was due at the citadel for a meeting in 20 minutes. Oversleeping was not his usual behavior, but the emotional turmoil left him exhausted. He yanked his discarded clothes back on and quickly brushed his teeth with the spare toothbrush he kept at Lyra’s. He found her in the living room, sitting in an armchair staring out the open window, sipping from a cup of coffee.  Sunlight dappled by the overhanging tree branches streamed in and a light breeze carried warm air inside. The day had dawned hot and clear; despite the early hour the temperature outside had already climbed past 80 degrees.

“Good morning,” he said, quietly moving to stand beside her, lightly caressing her cheek.  

“Hey,” Lyra replied, clasping his hand and holding it to her lips for several seconds before releasing it. She turned to look up at him with red, puffy eyes. Next to her on her on the end table was her laptop, the browser open to Kainslist apartment listings.

“I appear to have overslept.” Ignis ran a hand through his hair, attempting to smooth out any snarls.

“You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you.” Ignis, plagued by unsettling dreams during what little sleep he had managed, doubted that was the case, but didn’t contradict her. Internally, he bemoaned the necessity that he leave; there was nothing he wanted more than to squeeze in next to her in the chair, pull her onto his lap and hold her for the remainder of his days.

“I regret that today is inordinately busy; perhaps I could prepare dinner for you and we could talk this evening?”

“Yeah, okay,” she replied. “I’ll bring some wine and we can try to figure this whole mess out.”   

 “I must go, but I shall see you then,” he bent down to kiss the top of her head and turned toward the door.

 “Wait,” she said. “About last night… when I accused you of trying to manipulate me… I don’t know why I said it. That was really shitty of me and I know you better than that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s already forgotten.”

\-----

After his first meeting, Ignis managed to find a few spare minutes to shower and change into clothes he had left behind in his old room. For much of the rest of the day, he scarcely had a free moment until he received notification that his late afternoon meeting with the Under Secretary of Local Government had been cancelled due to a pressing emergency in Cleign province. As Noctis grew older, he was being pushed to become more involved in matters of state and it had been suggested he learn more about governance in the outlying regions of Lucis. In actuality, it was Ignis that most often served in his stead, shadowing various staff members in the Department of Internal Affairs. Due to the demands on his time, necessity dictated this would be the subject of his thesis, though he had yet to begin working on it in earnest. With the unexpected hole in his schedule, Ignis returned to the kitchen of the citadel to attempt another iteration of the elusive pastry.

After a quick detour home to fetch Noctis’ uniform jacket, Ignis set off for Noctis’ apartment to brief him on the results of the day’s appointments and meetings. He walked into Noctis’ kitchen, setting the bag of pastries on the counter and his brief case on a chair next to the dining room table. He pulled out a plate, and gently began arranging the pastries neatly, before setting them on the center of the table. Looking around, he saw the apartment was still relatively clean, though he was able to busy himself while he waited for Noct with gathering up stray items of clothing that adorned the couch and clearing the end tables of empty bottles Noctis had carelessly left. As the minutes ticked by, Ignis grew increasingly annoyed. According to his watch, Noctis was well over an hour overdue. He pulled out his phone and dialed the prince. From Noctis’ bedroom, he heard a chime. While the phone was still ringing, he walked into Noctis’ room to find the phone plugged into charge on the nightstand. Ignis sighed.

By the time Noctis walked in, Ignis had let his irritation fester into resentment.  

“You’re late,” Ignis said, turning toward him. “I thought your exams ended before noon.”

“I was at the arcade,” Noctis replied. With that, Ignis bristled. He had rushed out of Lyra’s this morning, spent the day in meetings in the prince’s stead, gave up his unexpected respite to bake pastries for his highness, and for what? A prince that shirked his responsibilities to play video games all afternoon?

Attempting to mask his annoyance, Ignis asked evenly “Did you study for tomorrow’s tests?”

“Why’re you here?”

“I brought your uniform—and this,” he replied, indicating a fresh batch of pastries. “Have you read the report?”

“No,” he answered shortly.

“I suspected as much. It doesn’t look like you’ve touched it.” Ignis sat down at the table. “The war with the empire may have ended 30 years ago, but we cannot let our defenses down just yet. The news is being regulated, but we receive reports of local skirmishes from time to time.”

“I know.” Noct said shortly, stretching out on the couch.

“Thanks to the king and the Wall, though, Lucis has been able to enjoy peace for the past 150 years.” Though Noct rolled onto his side away from him, facing the back of the couch, Ignis continued. “As a King must sacrifice his own strength to create the barrier, His Majesty has avoided the public eye to concentrate solely on the Wall. However, it seems as though he’s lost the ability to summon weapons. Are you listening?”

“Do we have to talk about this now?”

“If not now, then when? You’re the successor to the throne and someday—”

“My dad’s going to die?” To hear Noctis so bluntly state the reality they had danced around for some time extinguished Ignis’ feelings of acrimony. Unbidden, a memory flashed in his mind. He and Noctis were young children, walking across the outer court in front of the citadel when a sleek black car pulled up several yards away. Noctis’ hand slipped out of Ignis’ own as he ran toward it, shouting “That’s my dad! My dad is home!” Regis stepped out of the backseat, and Noctis threw himself into his father’s arms.

Dismayed, Ignis tried to apologize. “I didn’t—”

“That’s what you’re saying!” Noctis sat up and faced Ignis angrily. “When my dad dies, I have to be the king!”

Within him, feelings warred. Part of Ignis wanted to console the prince, reassure him that those days were long off, though they both knew that likely to be a lie. And yet, tenderness between the two was not a characteristic of their relationship, however much Ignis may have wished to express it. He brushed that impulse aside, attempting instead to use reason. “Shouting won’t change the truth—”

“Well I don’t wanna hear your ‘truth’!”

Ignis felt a wave of weariness wash over him as the events of the previous night, the long day, and now an emerging fight with Noctis suddenly caught up with him. He made the sudden decision to abandon his intention of briefing Noct; clearly neither of them were up for it.

“I see you won’t listen to reason.” Ignis stood, grabbing his briefcase from the chair next to him. “But you ought to at least think it over.”

On the elevator ride to the basement garage, Ignis mentally berated himself for being so harsh with the prince. Though he had been quite young when his parents died, he still mourned their loss, and he could empathize with the prince being forced to face his father’s decline. He also knew that Noctis did not have the liberty to wallow in depression with the needs of the people of Lucis soon to be his chief concern. Lyra may have been distressed over Ignis’ lack of agency in his own duty as the prince’s advisor, but at least he did not have the weight of a kingdom resting on his shoulders. He had an opportunity that Noct did not, to cast away the responsibilities he hadn’t chosen, to live a life of his choosing. Could he do it? Could he abandon his duty, his friend, to pursue his own happiness? He slid into the driver’s seat of his car, conflicted feelings overwhelming him. He rested his forehead on hands gripping the steering wheel, while conversations from the past few days played over and over in his mind until they coalesced into a haunting litany.

 _Have you ever thought about what you really want out of life?_  
_My dad’s going to die?_  
_You deserve to make your own choices!_  
_If something foul should befall me, the heir of Lucis must take the throne_.  
_When my dad dies, I have to be the king!  
__I leave Noct in your care._

Ignis sat up and started the engine. He pulled out of the parking spot and headed toward the entrance of the garage. As he turned onto the street, just one phrase remained.

  _I leave Noct in your care._

\-----

They embraced one last time before Lyra hoisted her bag onto her shoulder. The past three weeks had been tinged with sadness as they counted down the days until their parting. Ignis helped her pack and ship most of her belongings to Altissia. The furniture her elusive roommate declined was gradually sold or donated. They spent every evening together, systematically visiting Lyra’s favorite restaurants, or Ignis cooking her favorite dishes. Sometimes Gladio would join them for dinner, sometimes Prompto would tag along as well if he heard that Ignis was cooking green curry soup. Noctis was always invited, but invariably declined; the tense conversation about the king had strained their relationship. Every night they spent at Ignis’ apartment, sleeping with their limbs intertwined. On the days that Ignis could neglect his duties with minimal repercussions, they explored the city together. Though Lyra had spent four years in Insomnia, there was still much she hadn’t seen. The night before she was to depart, he pulled some strings to be able to take her to the top floor of the citadel, and she gazed in wonder at the city sparkling below her, the faint blue shimmer of the Wall winking in and out of view at the perimeter of the Crown City.

“I feel like I can see the whole world from here,” she had murmured as Ignis wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“From this vantage you can see almost all the way to Leide,” he said, “Though it is difficult to tell at night.”

“Maybe sometime we can come back up here during the day…” Her voice was soft and wistful. Neither of them wanted to acknowledge how unlikely it would be, as silent on this subject as they had been on the reality that this was their last night together.

She stood in front of the door to the bus to Galdin Quay, the last person to board. “Hey. Promise me you’ll take time for yourself sometimes, okay?” she said, punching him lightly on the arm with her free hand. “Don’t let the prince run you ragged.”

“I shall try,” he replied, with a sad smile. He pulled her toward him and kissed her deeply, feeling as though he needed to pour all his love, his tenderness, his heartbreak into this last kiss. They clung to one another until the driver snapped at Lyra to get on board or be left behind. They reluctantly pulled apart.

Ignis stood and watched as the bus took her away from him. He felt composed, almost numb as he walked to his car. Driving away, he turned the radio from its usual news station to one playing music. The song that emanated from the speakers was one he had heard before, but never paid much attention to. It was pleasant enough background music for his thoughts. Thoughts of Lyra, putting her hair up into a bun as she was getting ready for bed; giggling disproportionally at a silly joke on late night TV after one beer; the way she would stack her French fries by size on her plate, eating the smallest ones first; the time she had dreamed she was fighting sahagins and had slapped him on the back in her sleep; the ‘lucky’ cactuar socks that she wore whenever she wanted a day to go well. As fond memories of her little quirks and idiosyncrasies crowded his mind, he started to notice the lyrics of the song. 

> _Whenever I'm alone with you_  
>  _You make me feel like I am free again_  
>  _Whenever I'm alone with you_  
>  _You make me feel like I am fun again_
> 
> _However far away_  
>  _I will always love you_  
>  _However long I stay_  
>  _I will always love you_  
>  _Whatever words I say_  
>  _I will always love you_  
>  _I will always love you_

Ignis could feel tears beginning to well up in his eyes. Pulling onto the shoulder, he turned his hazard lights on and killed the engine. Hands still gripping the wheel, he rested his head his forearms and sobbed.

\-----

The sun had begun to set when Ignis arrived back at his apartment. Gladio was leaning against the door, bathed in warm light from the window at the end of the hall, paperback open in his hands. When he saw Ignis approaching, he closed the slim volume and shoved it in his back pocket.

“Thought you might want some company. You doin’ okay?”

“About as well as can be expected,” Ignis said shortly.

“C’mon,” Gladio said. “There’s only one thing that helps in situations like this.”

“And that is…?” Ignis questioned.

“Tequila.” He lifted a paper bag that had been sitting unnoticed next to him.

Inside, Gladio made himself at home in Ignis’ kitchen, opening and shutting drawers until he found the cutting board and knife he was looking for. Ignis sat on a stool on the opposite of the large kitchen island, observing while Gladio cut a lime in half, then in small wedges. He pulled a couple of shot glasses from the bag, and grabbed a salt shaker from next to the range.

“Is all this really necessary?”

“You know the drill. Just not usually you on this side of things.” He messily poured shots for both of them, Ignis raising an eyebrow at the tequila spilled on his marble countertop. This did not go unnoticed by Gladio. “Calm down Ig, and drink your shot,” he said downing his own.

“Fine,” Ignis muttered. He licked a patch on his hand, pouring a stream of salt that settled onto the wet spot. The sequence was smooth and practiced. Tequila tossed to the back of the throat, salt licked from skin, juice sucked from the lime wedge that Gladio thoughtfully nudged in his direction.

“Again,” Gladio said, pouring another shot for both of them.

Ignis pushed the glass away. “I think not. Tequila may be your drink of choice for a break-up, but it is not mine.” He moved to stand, but Gladio rolled his eyes and motioned him to sit back down.

“Nah, I’ll get it. What d’you want instead?”

“There’s some single-malt in the cabinet above the refrigerator. Not the 15-year if you please; no sense wasting it on a night we are unlikely to remember, if past experience is anything to go by.” Gladio pulled out a nearly-full bottle of amber liquid and a pair of glasses, but was stopped by Ignis.

“One does not drink scotch from highball glasses,” he said walking around the kitchen island to join his friend. Two short tumblers were selected, and with his other hand, Ignis plucked the bottle from Gladio’s fingers. He walked out into the living room and sat down heavily on the couch, setting the glasses and bottle on the coffee table and pouring two generous helpings. Ignis downed his one gulp, at which Gladio raised an eyebrow.  

“Needs must,” Ignis said, pouring another.

“I guess so. I’m sorry about Lyra, by the way. You loved her?” Gladio asked, flopping into a chair opposite.

“Indeed,” he replied, draining the rest of his glass, and refilling it again.  

“You ever thought about doing long-distance?”

“She was against it. Her opinion was that it delayed the inevitable,” Ignis replied, sipping his drink more slowly. He didn’t even like scotch all that much but it felt like something he should like, something very adult, very sophisticated, so he persisted hoping he would develop a taste for it eventually. It was, however, still preferable to tequila, which Ignis thought vile, despite the nights spent consoling Gladio through his regularly scheduled break-ups.    

“Lyra asked me to go with her… I thought about it, more than I should have.” He rubbed his forehead, wearily. “But when all was said and done… I couldn’t abandon my duty to Noctis, to the king. The decision was inevitable, inexorable, inescapable...”

Ignis was quiet for a while swirling the remaining liquid in the glass, watching it catch the light. Gladio remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

“Duty,” Ignis said, the bitterness in his voice surprising Gladio. “I doubt Noct even understands his, understands his position. Sometimes I wonder what goes on it that head of his.” He leaned back, resting his head on the back of the couch to stare up at the ceiling. It had started to spin slowly. Ignis closed his eyes, willing it to stop.

“Give him a little more credit than that,” Gladio replied.

“Hmph,” Ignis scoffed, eyes still closed. He realized he had never bothered to eat dinner. “What does it matter? Regardless of the prince’s tendency to dodge his royal responsibilities, I elected to remain in my post.”

“Hey, I don’t know if you made the right choice, but you had a choice. I have a choice. Noct? No choice.”

“So I am aware,” Ignis said, opening his eyes and sitting up. He set his glass on the table. “Why do you think I am here, not on a bus careening towards Galdin Quay and a ferry to Altissia?”

“Just cut him some slack for now, that’s all I’m saying,” Gladio watched as Ignis seemed to sway slightly. “And let’s get some food in you, okay? You’re lookin’ a little… un-Ignisy.”

Leaning back again, Ignis said quietly, “I think that would be wise.”

\----

The next day was as unpleasant a day as Ignis could remember. He woke up in the morning, his head pounding. A few aspirin and a glass of water had been left on his nightstand, which he consumed gratefully, mentally thanking Gladio. He made it through his meetings by pretending he wasn’t grievously hungover, though as the day went on he began to feel somewhat better. By the time he left to brief Noctis and prepare dinner for him, all that remained was a persistent headache behind his eyes.

As Ignis walked into Noctis’ apartment, the acrid smell of smoke assaulted his nose. “Is something burning?” he said to himself. In the kitchen he was relieved to see nothing was currently on fire, though the sink was filled with dirty dishes and a pan burnt almost beyond recognition. Also almost unrecognizable was the report Ignis had been nagging Noctis to read for weeks. Colorful flags adorned the pages and blue ink marred the text with notes, key words and phrases circled. It was then that Noctis walked into the kitchen.  

“Did you cook?” Ignis asked him, surprised and hopeful at this change in his friend and charge, though he realized the ruined ingredients were what he had intended for dinner that night.

“Tried to.”

Ignis pushed his glasses up his nose. Noctis taking his duties seriously, attempting to cook? Sometimes the prince was like two different people. In his half-remembered conversations with Gladiolus the night before, Ignis recalled feeling bitter and despondent that he had cast aside his own happiness for an indifferent and lazy prince. In the light of day those feelings had dissipated like morning fog burned off by the midday sun. When he pushed his grief and resentment aside, he could see the prince for what he was: an overwhelmed young man attempting to navigate the march toward adulthood while simultaneously living with the specter of his father’s decline and the inevitable throne.

“Hungry?” Noctis asked.

“Regrettably, I didn’t bring anything today.”

“It’s fine,” Noctis said, walking into the kitchen. He filled the electric kettle with water and turned it on. While he waited for the water to heat up, Noctis pulled out two cups of instant ramen.

They sat at the table opposite one another, slurping noodles and sipping the salty broth.  

“Not bad, once in a while,” Ignis commented. There was satisfaction in the simple convenience food, though he did not share Gladio’s mystifying, unabashed love for it.

“So… which trash does a frying pan go in?” Noctis deadpanned.

Amused, Ignis replied, “It’s not trash yet. I’ll bring the proper cleanser next time.”

“Thanks.”

Ignis made a mental note to haul Noctis in the kitchen to observe the next time he cooked, though he wasn’t sure if the prince would appreciate the effort. There was a fine line to be walked between assistance and condescension and lately it seemed as though Ignis had inevitably tended towards the latter. It was complicated, attempting to be a friend and an advisor at the same time, and Ignis realized he hadn’t always handled it particularly well. One thing in particular had bothered him for a while.

“Noctis?” Ignis said, tentatively.

“Yeah?”

“Some weeks ago, I spoke out of turn regarding your father. Please know that I deeply regret what I said.”

“That time… you almost had it,” Noct replied, somewhat cryptically, until Ignis realized what he meant.

“Oh, you mean the sweets?”

“I could definitely go for some more.” Ignis took that to mean Noctis accepted his apology. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now. Ignis knew he would miss Lyra, perhaps he would even always love her, like people in sappy novels said was inevitable with first love. He also knew eventually it would hurt less and he would move on; perhaps he would meet someone new and fall in love again. Though his feelings were a jumble of conflicts and contradictions, distinctly lacking was regret at his choice. Ignis was where he was needed.

“Very well,” Ignis said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it. Ignis chose heartbreak and Noctis over his first love. It was really important to me that Ignis actively choose this commitment to Noct, and for it to be a difficult choice. I echo Lyra’s sentiment from the previous chapter that it’s pretty fucked up to saddle a child with this life-long duty. 
> 
> I like to imagine an alternate universe where Ignis says his goodbyes and moves to Altissia. He’s happy, working in a gallery and baking and cooking in his spare time. Eventually, Noct forgives him. Ignis and Gladio are both best man at Noct’s and Prompto’s wedding. Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. (This is the kind of stuff I think about when I’m washing my hair.)
> 
> Thanks for reading. I’ve been continuously surprised that anyone would want to read this, let alone leave kudos or comments. I really appreciate the feedback that was left, especially considering this is the first real fanfic I’ve written (aside from a silly Sailor Moon versus the Power Rangers one I wrote in high school to make my siblings laugh). It’s been a fun ride. (Although it seems I have accidentally started to write an epilogue of sorts...)
> 
> Now for some notes on minor details:
> 
> Yes, I took liberties with the events of Brotherhood as well as the order of the lyrics to Lovesong. Fight me. 
> 
> While I love the original version of Lovesong by the Cure, the one that Ignis hears on the radio is 311’s cover. (Not that it really matters to anyone but me.)
> 
> Lyra was named after Lyra Belacqua from His Dark Materials, and her last name name (Martes) is the genus and species of Pantalaimon’s form when he finally settles, the pine marten.


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bittersweet reunion. 
> 
> Game spoilers up to Chapter 9.

Ignis waited until the end of Lyra’s last class to seek her out, pushing through the tide of exiting students to reach the front of the large, theater-style classroom. He hung back, out of her line of sight, observing while students monopolized her attention with their questions. Her hair was shorter than he remembered; now it was just past her chin, highlighting her jaw and long neck. She had traded in her jeans for a dress that managed to be both modest and flatter the figure that Ignis so fondly remembered. Butterflies began flitting around in his stomach in the dozen or so paces it took to walk to her Lyra’s side as the last student left and she began to gather up her papers.  Seeing him approach out of the corner of her eye, Lyra looked up and dropped her notes in shock.

“Holy Six, Ignis!” Wasting no time, Lyra threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly and bursting into tears. “I thought you were… When I heard about Insomnia, I was so afraid,” she said, her words punctuated by sobs. A warmth welled up in his chest, touched that Lyra had been worried about him. “When I started hearing rumors the prince survived…  I was scared to hope, but I… I couldn’t help it… I’m just so relieved you’re okay.” When her sobs subsided, she pulled back to look at him. “You’re all okay? The prince? Gladio? Prompto?”

“None the worse for wear,” he replied, stroking her hair.

She squeezed him tightly again. “Gods, that’s good to hear.” Embarrassed, she looked around at the students beginning to file in for the next lecture, the professor pointedly making eye contact with her and tapping his watch. Lyra wiped her eyes roughly with the back of her hand.

“Perhaps it is time to take our leave,” Ignis said quietly, bending down to gather her scattered papers and neatly slot them into her bag. Lyra nodded and led him to a nearby exit.

Once outside, she turned to him again. “I’m just… I can’t believe it’s really you! How did you escape the Crown City? It’s been weeks since the fall! Where have you been? What have you been doing? You need to tell me everything!”

“I would be happy to. It’s rather early, but would you care to join me for dinner?”

“Of course! C’mon, there’s a place nearby that has pretty good food and even better sangria. I have a feeling this story is going to require an absolutely enormous amount of alcohol to get through.”

Over dinner, Ignis told her as much as he was able, about the inauspicious beginning to their roadtrip, the despair when they learned of Insomnia’s fall, the somber realization that they would need to overthrow an empire to reclaim their home and Noctis’ kingdom. Lyra was suitably awed at Ignis’ description of Noctis receiving the power of the royal arms, the glittering crystal weapons encircling him and imbuing him with power. She recoiled in horror at his retelling of the trial of the Archaen and how close they were to their lives being brutally snuffed out, and cackled with glee over how the foursome had pulled off dramatic takedowns of entire Imperial military bases. He made it as far as their descent into the mysterious and captivating Steyliff Grove, Lyra expressing a wistful longing to see the magical lake suspended above the abandoned underground palace, before the waitstaff politely asked them to free up the table for other patrons.

Outside, they wandered the streets and alleys of Altissia, going in no particular direction, with no destination in mind, as Ignis continued the saga. Walking next to one another, her fingers brushed his, and he was overtaken by a wave of longing to hold her hand as he used to when they strolled through the streets of Insomnia. The beauty of the setting did nothing to help his feelings. Insomnia had been beautiful too, stately and refined, but Altissia at night had an intimate romance to it, with the glow of the moon reflecting off the canals that snaked through the city, and the warm light of the lanterns that dotted the avenues. He had finally caught up to the present in his tale when a man in straw hat attempted to cajole them into taking a romantic gondola ride.

“Y’know, there’s no better way to see the city!” Lyra said to him.

“I think I would prefer to continue walking.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” she cajoled, and Ignis acquiesced. In the small boat, they sat side by side, knees touching. As the gondola glided through the water, Lyra caught him up on her life in the city. The job that she loved had turned into a full-time teaching position, much to her satisfaction, and her days were filled with students that were in turns infuriating and inspiring. She felt lucky to have her family nearby, not far from the city, and a group of friends from her university days waiting when she returned after her time in Insomnia. Noticeably absent was any mention of a boyfriend, causing hope to bubble up that Ignis quickly tried to tamp down. What did it matter? He would be in Altissia a few days at most, before they left to seek out Shiva and the remaining royal arms. And after that… the Empire. Attempting to rekindle their relationship would be foolish and selfish. Lyra deserved to happy and all he could guarantee was chaos and uncertainty. 

They exited the gondola on the far side of the city near a plaza dominated by a large fountain. A small group of musicians were stationed near the center, playing an eclectic mix of folk songs and mellow covers of rocks tunes from the last several decades. Lyra and Ignis sat on a nearby bench to listen for a while. When they began to play a lilting melody Ignis didn’t recognize, Lyra rested her head on his shoulder with a sigh. “I’ve always loved this song,” she said.

 Before he could stop himself, Ignis stood and offered a hand to her. “Would the lady care to dance?” he asked.

Lyra hesitated for a moment before placing her hand in his. “Sure. Why not?” she replied with a smile. She laughed as he pulled her close and spun her around. Ignis was awash in nostalgia when he smelled her perfume, the same that she had worn years ago. They slow danced for several songs, regardless of the tempo, Ignis’ hand on the small of her back, and Lyra’s head resting on his chest. He told her the more lighthearted digressions in their adventures that he had skipped over earlier, about Prompto’s unbridled love of chocobos and his need to stop and take photos at every vista; climbing a volcano to satisfy Gladio’s bizarre need for the so-called “ultimate flavor experience” which involved, of all things, zu eggs and instant ramen; about the ridiculous errands that Noctis’ dragged them on, hunting for frogs, or beans, or lost vegetables.  It was nearing midnight when the musicians began to pack up their instruments to leave; Lyra left a 10 gil note in an open guitar case sparkling with coins

“I suppose it is getting rather late. Shall I escort you home?” Ignis asked reluctantly.

“Always the gentleman,” she replied, smiling. “I actually don’t live too far from here, if you don’t mind a few extra blocks before you head back to the hotel.”

“Not at all.”

True to her word, it was only a few minutes later when Lyra opened a waist-high wrought iron fence and led him up brick path winding through a small garden. At the door of a small building of apartments, she turned to him. “Well, this is me,” she said wistfully. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”

“It was my pleasure,” the steadiness to his voice hiding a deep longing to kiss her goodnight, like he did so many times before. “Thank you for the expert tour of the city.”

Turning the key in the lock, she paused and rested her forehead on the door frame. Concerned, Ignis placed a hand on her shoulder. “Lyra? Is something amiss?”

“This is ridiculous,” she said, spinning around abruptly and grabbing Ignis by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him down for a rough kiss. There was a brief moment of surprise before he was pushing her up against the door, his body pressed tightly against hers as he twined his fingers in hair, the kiss turning heated and demanding. Breathless, Ignis pulled away.   

 “I…. I fear we are being very unwise,” he said, his voice husky with desire.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Lyra whispered in his ear. “No strings, okay? It doesn’t have to be any more than tonight.” The feeling of her breath on his neck was like a jolt of electricity and he found himself whispering his assent to her invitation.

The walk up the stairs to her third-floor flat was slow, as they could no longer deny hands that ached to touch the curves and planes of each other’s bodies, lips that needed to caress a throat, a jawline. As she pushed her door open, Ignis turned her body towards his, running his hands up her thighs under her skirt and pulling her against him. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, kissing his neck as he carried her inside and kicked the door shut behind them.

Afterward, Ignis held her close to his chest and he fell asleep with her head resting on his arm and her hair tickling his nose.   

_The daemon attacked from behind, impaling Noctis on a long, shining sword and holding him aloft before any of them could react. “Highness!” Ignis cried, while beside him, Prompto took a photo of the gruesome scene. “Let me get this shot!” he said. Smaller daemons, imps or goblins, mobbed Gladiolus, who thrashed frantically with his sword, attempting to shake them off. Ignis tried to run to Noctis, but his legs felt as stone, immobile. He looked down to see they were indeed turning to rock, a relentless malady creeping up his legs, his hips, his torso. He reached out with one arm toward the prince before that, too, was claimed. A bussemand approached, and Ignis knew its intent was to shatter him to pieces. “Highness…” he whispered, as the bussemand swung his fists toward him. The sensation of shattering merged seamlessly into that of an earthquake, and Ignis was standing on a ledge in the Disc of Cauthess, as Noctis slid down a rocky slope toward the enraged Archaean. Titan’s enormous hand plucked Noctis from amidst the rocks and clutched him in his first. The astral’s words were unintelligible, but the intent was clear. No mere human could dare to call upon the power of the gods. As the Archaean slowly tightened his grip, Noctis screamed in agony. Using his polearm, Ignis vaulted towards them, leaping from the ledge on which he stood. Falling short, the ground rushed to meet him._

“Ignis! Ignis, you’re dreaming! Wake up!” Sweating and panting, Ignis opened his eyes. Lyra was sitting up, looking down at him, her eyes filled with concern. “You were having a nightmare.” She slid back under the sheets and held him close. “Does this happen every night?”

He breathed deeply several times, attempting to slow his racing heart before answering. The dreams always felt so real. The details changed, but the plot was always the same: Noctis was dying and Ignis was powerless to save him. “More or less,” he replied. In the small tent they shared it was impossible not to be aware that they all had nightmares. They would take turns soothing each other in the middle of the night, but come morning not a word was spoken on the matter. 

“It might help to talk about it,” Lyra said softly, gently rubbing small circles into his back, attempting to ease the tension in his muscles. The gray light of early dawn lightened the room enough that he could see the concern in her eyes.

He was silently for a long time before he said quietly, “I’m afraid if I start I may never stop.”

“If that’s what you need, then we’ll stay in this bed forever. There are worse places to be. I have a feeling by this point you’ve seen them all.”

Once Ignis began to speak, it was like a floodgate opened. So much of their journey had been punctuated by grief and terror unacknowledged by those experiencing it. He kept the feelings bottled up, afraid to let his companions, especially Noctis, see him vulnerable. To speak of it felt simultaneously shameful and freeing.

He told her about the stress of constantly being on the run from MTs; about scraping by, taking on hunts that they sometimes barely survived all in order to fund the next step in their journey; the confrontations with the chancellor; the hideous daemons the seemed to lurk behind every corner as they sought the royal arms in the most inconvenient locations in Lucis. The worst were the flans, with their ghastly noises and the disgusting squelch as he pulled his weapons free from their gooey flesh. There was the indignity of being turned into a frog and the distress as he came to his senses following the application of smelling salts, realizing he had been attacking his friends. He knew that if he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget the feeling of his life draining away before the flush of warmth flooded his body, accompanied by an effervescent tingling as the phoenix down took effect. Threaded through it all, through every moment, every word spoken, every forced laugh, and every pretense at being relaxed and unflappable, was the heartache at of the loss of his home.

Lyra held him, murmuring words of encouragement and comfort as needed. The words spilled out of him like water from a cracked vessel, leaving him feeling drained and yet like a weight was lifted.  Finally spent, he fell back asleep, this time without dreams.  

Ignis awoke to the smell of cooking and a bed devoid of Lyra. He found her in the kitchen, scrambling eggs. In the bright morning sunshine he was able to observe her apartment more clearly. It was fairly small and cluttered, but in a way that lent it a warm coziness. The walls were a creamy plaster, adorned with framed botanical prints. Sheer curtains fluttered in the open window overlooking the small garden they had walked through last night. A neighbor, spying him in the window, waved cheerily. Ignis raised his hand in greeting before backing away and turning to join Lyra in the kitchen.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she said, hearing his approach. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“I was until I saw the state of this… concoction.  After all this time you are still unable to cook eggs properly,” he teased, wrapping her in a hug from behind. “Please allow me to assist you.”

Lyra shook him off.  “You will eat what I cook and you will like it!” she replied with mock severity. “Besides, are you still the only one that cooks for the prince and his entourage?”

“The task generally falls to me, yes.”

“Get yourself some coffee and kick back and enjoy the novel experience of _not_ being the chef for once,” she ordered, gently pushing him toward the coffeemaker on the opposite side of the galley-style kitchen. It was an unusual sensation for him, to observe as someone else cooked. He sat at the square kitchen table, tracing the design in the tablecloth while he sipped his coffee and resisted the urge to offer unsolicited advice.

Lyra set two plates of scrambled eggs and blueberry pancakes on the table before sitting in the chair opposite him. “Well?” she asked, waiting for him to take a bite.

Ignis sampled each before replying. “Passable, I suppose,” he said, his smile belying the words.

Lyra rolled her eyes. “I cook you breakfast and this is the thanks I get?” she grumbled good-naturedly, neatly cutting her pancakes into squares. “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

“Charming pancakes and eggs from lovely women is my chief occupation in life,” he said displaying his most winning smile.  

“I can’t imagine you make much of a living doing that. You’ll probably need to branch out eventually. Maybe to sandwiches? Or soup. Can’t go wrong with soup.”

“Does this mean you’re offering to prepare me lunch as well?” He asked with a wink.

“That depends on how exactly you plan to charm me.” Lyra eyed him suggestively. “For soup… well, that would require a lot of charm.”

Ignis shrugged, barely able to suppress a smile. “In that case, I believe it would be simpler to prepare my own soup.”

“That’s what you call it? Haven’t heard that particular euphemism before.”  With that, Ignis kicked her lightly under the table.

As much as Ignis was enjoying the banter, he knew he’d soon have to broach the subject that led him to seek Lyra out on his arrival in Altissia. Not one to normally procrastinate, he had continued to put off the sobering conversation throughout their dinner and stroll around Altissia. The logical moment would have been at her door last night before they went their separate ways, though the unexpected turn of events had resulted in a change of plans.

“Hey, are you okay over there? You seemed like you were on another planet.”

“My apologies. I was briefly distracted by my thoughts.” 

“Well you know I’m your girl if you need to talk about something,” she coaxed. "Lyra Martes – doctor of philosophy and certified Ignis-listener.”

“Indeed,” he replied, smiling sadly. “There is something rather serious I do need to talk to you about. For your safety, you must leave Altissia before Lady Lunafreya entreats the Hydraean.”

“Not sure what I expected you to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. Leaving the city seems a little extreme. Do you really think it’s necessary?”

“The Astrals are unpredictable, which is compounded by how predictable the Empire is. No doubt they are amassing to slay Leviathan before Noctis is granted her power. The city will not escape unscathed.”

Lyra sighed. “I suppose you have direct experience with the Gods and the Niffs. It’s just … What do I tell my students? That class is cancelled for the foreseeable future due to an act of God? I have class in—” She glances at the clock. “Two hours. Do I tell them to flee the city as well?”

“Noctis is meeting with the first secretary later today, and I suspect evacuation procedures will likely begin very shortly afterwards.” Ignis looked down at his plate. “It is selfish of me, I suppose, but I had thought to tell you in advance so I could be sure you were safe… Evacuation will inevitably crowd the roads out of the city.”

“A head start?” she mused. “My parents live outside the city, further inland. I can go there. But what will you do?”

“The role I will play in the upcoming events remains to be seen.  Regardless of what that is, I will do what is needed to assist Noctis in gaining the power required to retake our homeland from the Empire.” 

\-----

On the sidewalk outside her front gate, Ignis kissed Lyra goodbye before he headed one way toward the Leville, and she the other toward the University of Accordo. Another parting, he thought sadly, though not so painful as the last. Striding toward the nearest gondola, he felt strangely at peace. After months of uncertainty, there was finally something he was sure about— he had done what he could to keep her safe. Away from the city she would remain untouched by the chaos of the Astrals and the Empire.

Noctis, Gladio, Prompto, and himself? Ignis knew that would be another matter entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, you know what happens next.

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this story came from a few different places. The first was Knockknockbadminton’s fic “Lessons in Etiquette” in which it’s mentioned that Ignis used to sneak girls into the library. I was really amused by the idea of Ignis the ladies’ man, and it fit in with my headcanon that Ignis avoided serious relationships because he didn’t want to lose focus. There was also the Tumblr post by Vivicogitator [ “The Tragedy of Ignis.”](http://vivicogitator.tumblr.com/post/156718139331/tragedy-of-ignis) I was really struck by how sad it was that Ignis’ entire life was centered around Noct. I wanted him to have his own life and to perhaps feel conflicted over his responsibility. Not resentful, but to express an understanding at times that, yes, he has given up a lot.


End file.
